The Books of Bloodoak
by chrysanthemumsies
Summary: "The Books of Bloodoak only have one future for the prince of lies and mischief: that of a thawed love with a human woman." Series of books in the setting of a storybook, with AU story lines based off of fairytales. Lokane. Rated T for some darkness and the barest of adult themes. Current book: Beauty and the Beast, "The Frozen Apple of Idunn."
1. a caution

_**A/N : **__Alright, this is my first fanfiction in this archive and/or style, so go easy on me! _

_*Note: This has absolutely no relation to the Bloodoak trees mentioned in the Edge Chronicles, as I just learned of the name correlation now._

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a caution

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Bestowed upon the bark of the Bloodoak tree are these books of truth, futures withheld into the great power sealed within the magical wood, in which none can compare.

Written in the ink of the scarlet sap, these pages hold not only the key to the futures entangled among the prince of lies, but among the magic alike to none in the lands; that of true love in a cold heart.

These books, told by the rings of the deadened tree of Bloodoak, are no folklore. These are the futures of the chance prince, where all of these futures can happen yet only one will prevail above all.

Take note, weary reader, that these futures are forthcoming. Do not meddle in the lives of those involved, as doing so will destroy these pages and the very magic upholding the futures of the realms.

After you've seen the power of the Bloodoak tree in the magical futures you will soon hold knowledge of, return this to its original place of resting, and never return.

The prince of lies only has one future for him; that of the love with a human woman whom a future without magic would never allow him to have.

A future without magic is a future without the Bloodoak, who has sacrificed its magic to save the life of the prince, who without this sacred power, would never survive his immortality.

The Books of Bloodoak only have one future for the prince of lies and mischief.

That future is of magic and that of a thawed love, and that fact is something that needn't be compromised in all of the realms held around the kingdom this lies within:

The kingdom of Asgard.

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_(Please) review to your heart's content, and I hope you enjoy the ride._


	2. preface

_Wow, I didn't expect this much attention! Thanks so much, you guys!_

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preface

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Once upon a time, in a world away from what we know as home, there was a kingdom.

This kingdom, known by many, was ruled by a powerful, fair king that was mastered in the art of magic. The queen, a woman of immense kindness as well as a gifted sorceress, was graced with two princes as sons; one of birth, and one of chance.

The birth prince, though uninterested in the art of magic belonging with his true parents, was popular amongst the kingdom. He was a prince of thunder, carrying a mighty hammer that struck lightning into the rain, and the people saw him as a worthy protector of the kingdom. He was very strong, very kind, and very handsome, as well as the eldest in line to bestow upon the throne. He was a gentleman, as well as a man skilled in the art of war, which was a compelling trait for the good of the kingdom. His only weakness was his hastiness, the way that he didn't think through his actions before acting, and that made the king worried about officially appointing him the crown prince.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, though, there lay the son of chance.

As a newborn, the ice kingdom he was prince of was defeated in perilous battle. The fair king who fought the beasts of sorcery pitied the helpless child whose small stature was sure to have him abandoned by the king, so he stole it away and used his magic to change its appearance to appear more alike to his own kingdom. Rather than being discovered as the son of an ice beast with frozen skin and sharp, black teeth, he appeared as a pale baby with inky black hair and intelligent green eyes, the complete opposite of who would soon be his brother.

The queen, the only other person who knew of its heritage, treated the baby as her own. She raised it alongside her true son as another prince, one of magic and knowledge rather than of thunder and war. The two sons grew up as brothers and friends over the many years their lifespan contained, each eating the golden apples in harmony that kept the kingdom immortal. They were inseparable for the longest of times, each making up for what the other lacked, and played tricks on the kingdom together in boyish fun. Their love for each other was strong, stronger than any other love imaginable, and that in itself was enough for the king to let go of his fear of raising a potential beast as a son.

The sons didn't know of the true parentage of the youngest prince for the longest while. The fair king, after protecting his kingdom of the intruding ice beasts during the crown prince coronation of his eldest son, saved the princes after the eldest raced off to the snow kingdom to fight the king. With that, angered by the immaturity of the one that should have been crowned that day, the king banished him to our world and stripped him of his powers.

The youngest son, his mind sharp, was becoming aware of his true being after encountering his true home, and the feelings that accompanied it. Upset, he questioned the king ruthlessly until he learned of the truth; that underneath the facade of a handsome body, he was indeed a beast of frozen blue skin and bloodthirsty red eyes, a monster. Soon thereafter, the king himself fell into a deep sleep of revival from the audacity of what he revealed, which in turn forced the prince to hold the throne he always wanted. Only now, he knew that it would have never been his, despite his obvious maturity over the brother that was to be crown prince upon his return.

He took the chance to ensure the throne to be his, as he was the prince of lies and mischief after all. He visited his brother on our world and convinced him that the king was dead, therefore leaving the eldest to be stranded as human until the end of his days. He returned, only to transport to the home he was abandoned from to speak with the king, the father that didn't want him. He told him that, as long as it would ensure the ice beasts to leave his kingdom from their grasp, he would allow the king to take back the cube of immense power that the beasts were after, as well as kill his adoptive father.

He agreed.

Unfortunately, that wasn't going to happen in itself, as the temporary king was yet again, the prince of lies. Rather than letting the ice king kill who he called father, he killed the beast himself and earned the gratitude of the kingdom. There was only one thing left to do; kill his brother and ensure that the throne would forever be his, as his thirst for power was too great. But, there was someone that wouldn't allow that to happen: the gatekeeper of the bridge between our world and theirs foretold of the danger, and brought the eldest son back to the kingdom to fight his brother.

The king awoke, and the rightful prince prevailed against the greed that subsided into the one he had called his brother. In the process, though, the cube of immense power was dropped into our world, and the prince of chance fell from the bridge and into the abyss of no return. The king was saddened by the events that took place, as even him could not save his son, even with his immense powers.

Only, that wasn't the last of the prince.

After his fall, he was tortured by a power of immense greed, and shaped to become the controller of a world needing to be conquered; our own. Following the words of who changed him into something evil, he came to our world and began the destruction, clearing out the ignorance of this world in anticipation of the force he was only puppeting for.

He didn't prevail.

His brother was now in our forces by the time of his defeat, and the twisted prince was sentenced to prison in his kingdom, once and for all. The king, angered by the doings of who he still called son, made sure that he could not escape through treachery alone. While incarcerated, though, another threat was too apparent; the elves of darkness were upon them.

Among the chaos, his mother was killed, a fact that, when told, he became completely distraught. The only thing him and his brother had in common, now, was the fury that they felt for the death of their mother. With that, after being released to accompany his brother, the two set off to fight the elves and avenge their mother and destroy the elves that were meaning to conquer all the worlds. In the midst of battle, though, in a last resort he sacrificed himself to save his brother and kill the leader of the dark elves. In his dying breath, gathering the sparse compassion he had left in his empty heart, he apologized to his brother and to all he has wronged.

But, once and for all, he was the prince of lies and mischief. Even the end wasn't the conclusion of his life.

Leaving a corpse of a dark elf, his magic changing its appearance to one of his own, he jumped from the befallen kingdom into his own, as his thirst for power was not yet quenched. While the fair king was grieving for his supposed lost son, his powers vulnerable, the prince of chance attacked. Using a spell in the language of magic to ensure victory, he inflicted his father into the deep sleep he was so used to, only… he would not awake.

Taking the throne once again, changing his form to that of his father, he finally held the power he so craved. He finally controlled what should have always been his: the land of his false upbringing and the lies that had cultivated within it. He was no longer just the son of a ruler, no longer a prince of lies and deceit.

He had become king.

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_Review, please! Thanks to all of you that have so far!_


	3. book one: The Frozen Apple of Idunn

_Again, wow, thanks for the reviews! This is the opening for the first book, which has a beauty and the beast theme. _

_While, lately, everything has been in storybook style... it'll regulate into normal speech by part one, AKA next chapter._

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book one: The Frozen Apple of Idunn

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There is said to be a prince of lies, banished by the great All-Father, who resides in the palace of Jotunheim.

After stealing the almighty Odin's throne, throwing the king into an endless slumber, the prince of lies ordered for the kingdom of Jotunheim to be completely isolated by Asgardian forces. No one fought his orders, as he was wearing the magical facade of the hidden king, Odin's whereabouts unknown to the oblivious people.

By luck alone, though, the mighty prince Thor of Asgard discovered this treachery, and searched the realms for a magic-user to awaken his father, as his own magic was null.

He received the aide of a sorcerer of Vanaheim, and used the gifted potion of enlightenment to awake his father, the true king of the stolen land.

Being the only person able to disarm the magic of his twisted son, Odin awoke in a fury and threw the prince of lies from his throne, and into the hands of the palace guards.

Angry of the actions of his untrue son, he proclaimed the following curse:

"Prince Loki, once of Asgard,

you have an evil alike to those only of your true people,

so you shall be returned."

Summoning a golden apple of immortality from Idunn's orchard, the great All-Father froze it with his magic and dropped it at the feet of the captured prince.

"This apple of immortality will only thaw as your heart does in itself,

and only then will you need it the most.

I take away your form, I change you into the Jotun you always were,

and sentence you to rule the only land your greed had forgotten:

Jotunheim.

If you never find someone to love in your heart,

and them to you,

you will be forced to live immortality within the bounds of the frozen realm,

never to return."

And with that, the great Odin ripped the very Asgardian facade from the prince of lies, and banished him to the homeland of a forever winter:

The ice kingdom of Jotunheim.

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_Again, thanks so much for the reviews! This is the opening for book one. Every opening for every book will continue on from the preface with different circumstances._

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	4. part i: The Ice Palace

Jane Foster had figured it out.

She ran a hand through her hair, pacing around the lab with quiet, assured steps, despite the qualms in her mind. She had done it, had built the device with just enough energy to jump her to another realm, past the magnetic barriers, and into Asgard. She had done it.

But had she? There was no one to double check the wiring of the actual machine, no one to mull over the very same equations she had. Darcy had returned to Culver, her credits full and her parting words something along the lines of: _"Can I get extra credits for this? No? Alrighty, then. This was nice, we should get together for Starbucks soon." _

Eric was still in the 'company' of SHIELD; she doubted that he was being treated as a guest in the base he was kept in near Stockholm. Ever since _Loki _ \- the name still sent shivers up her spine - faked his own death and was banished to Jotunheim, Nick Fury had milked Eric for every piece of information he had. Which wasn't much, but the man was _convinced _that there was something locked in his memories, something useful to gain the knowledge of how to defeat Loki. There was no doubt among SHIELD that the tempered 'god' would return to Earth at some point.

Jane clenched her fists, nails teasing the meaty flesh of her palm. That fact still didn't make it okay that Eric, the man she loved most in this world, was being bombarded with intense interrogations that just _had _to be irritating his PTSD.

'Irritating' must be a bit of an understatement, but she digressed.

Jane didn't know what to believe, herself. Though she felt nothing above caution and… _distaste _for Loki, he had saved her life. Twice. The fact that he faked his death to overthrow Odin was nothing to dispel that fact, as the context didn't very much matter to her if she were dead. There had to be _some _brownie points for that.

She slowed her legs to a halt and dropped her fists against the table below her, her knuckles rapping against the wood. She was getting too caught up into her thoughts, when she could be acting on her theory right now. What did she have to lose? Thor? She smiled bitterly. The last she heard of him, he was relaying the information of Loki's whereabouts in SHIELD headquarters, without a spare thought in her direction.

She dropped the corners of her lips after a moment of thought, a sigh entangling the air. She shouldn't blame him, not when she knew of his constant work in Asgard. She knew he had to jump from world to world, qualming the altercations in each kingdom. He was a peacekeeper, something that appealed to the humanity inside of her, and that could never change, no matter how difficult it became to remain fond of him.

She _had_ always had a bit of a temper, though. But her fondness of him never dropped, even when she screamed out curses to him in the desert night. Her lips twitched genuinely at the memory. Her vocabulary was more expansive than she had thought.

She abruptly straightened up, a sense of courage pulsating through her veins. There was no point to dwell on the past, her feelings over the eight months that transpired between now and the battle on Svartalfheim. She would see him soon enough, after all.

Striding across the room in as big of steps as she could manage, she snatched the duffel bag from the couch and began loading it up with necessities. She nestled the device over a layer of clothing, keeping it as safe as she could, and piled some more things over it. With a spare moment of thought, she stuffed a couple of water bottles and several granola bars into the side pocket; she had to consider a number of variables. Like her van breaking down on the way to the sight she would be jumping from.

She zipped everything up and slapped her hands onto the plushed nylon in finality. There was no time for doubts, only preparations.

She peaked at the clock on her nightstand, and assessed her own body's internal health. Alright, there was time for a short nap.

Crawling into a nestle on the couch, she closed her eyes, ignoring the flashes of images that drawled against her lids. This _was _the right decision, as well as the only one she could be true to herself to take. Telling SHIELD would only result in a situation out of her control, something that she wouldn't allow. This was _her _machine, as it is, so it should remain _her _doing.

Humming deep in her throat, the problematic thoughts soon ceased to continue, and she allowed herself to succumb to the deeper parts of her subconscious, into what would surely be longer than a nap.

It didn't matter. She had all the time she needed.

* * *

When Jane awoke, it was already into a deep nightfall. She blinked stickily, unclumping her tangled lashes from each other and sitting up on the cushion.

She had fallen asleep only a little past noon, as the thicket of of stormclouds that were rolling in had darkened the sky into false evening, at the time. The impending thunder that sounded nearby seemed to agree with her.

The thunderstorm would mask her departure from SHIELD, though not entirely. It didn't matter; they couldn't stop her now, anyway.

Stretching her legs, she rolled her body off of the couch and into an immediate standing position, swaying as black ink clotted her vision. She had made sure not to eat, as interdimensional travel gave her an upset stomach; she knew from experience. That didn't stop her stomach from growling angrily, though.

After brushing her teeth and untangling her hair with her fingers, she spared no time. Swinging the strap of the duffel bag over her shoulder, she grabbed her keys and opened the door, locking it behind her. She had stripped the actual lab of useful materials for the devices, and had gathered all of the information and data in a USB around her neck. She kept a spare one at the bottom of her duffel; again, preparing for all possible happenings was her forte.

The humid fragrance of raindrops wetting the sand drifted under her nose, and she eyed the stormclouds uncertainly. If she could already _smell _the rain, then the drive to the original site of Thor's arrival would be a rocky one. With only a short moment of hesitation, she padded down the concrete steps and swung herself into the van, dropping her bag into the passenger seat. She regarded the fact that, yes, bringing her van probably wasn't the best idea; it wasn't the model of stealth, even when it wouldn't be sitting plainly on the flat desert sand.

She realized that it hardly mattered at this point, now. The readings, while masked slightly with the storm, will become apparent to SHIELD eventually. They would arrive to the sight in Puente Antiguo, expecting clues of an Asgardian (or _other_) resident, only to realize that Jane had found her wait _out, _rather than someone their way _in. _They would raid her lab, yet find nothing of her work other than a few unrelated theories and unused scraps of metal. There was no one that they could question, as she had been without company for the past several months.

They would reach a dead end. The thought sent a fierce smile to Jane's lips, from the hatred she felt for SHIELD, and she realized something that should have been obvious: _she wasn't as submissive as she had thought. _She _did _have a backbone, and she was intending on wringing it of every ounce of courage she had left.

Jabbing the key into the ignition, she felt the van groan to life, and she swung out into an uneven reverse. Without looking back, she thrust the stick into drive, and raced off into the storm.

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Jane was calibrating the device, connecting it to the interdimensional passageway the Bifrost provided, when she heard the helicopters.

She froze, her fingers pressed firmly against the cool metal of the device. No, impossible, it just _couldn't _be SHIELD. Turning her head, her hands still tensed against the machine, she trailed her eyes up from the languid sand until she caught sight of the only star visible past the mountains of stormclouds.

Only, it wasn't a star.

"_Damn _it," she cursed with fervor, whipping her head back around to bury the device deeper in the center of the design in the sand, its twisting patterns forever inked upon the desert from Thor's first arrival. The orange, pulsating light told her it was searching, a task that could take up to an hour.

She had a few minutes.

She was _not _going to let SHIELD take this from her, take what she had built from scraps of metal and her own theories. She flexed her fists against the sand, feeling the thrumming power of the energy sensor pass through the grains. All it had to do was find the Bifrost, connect to the Einstein-Rosen Bridge that existed between Earth and Asgard, and then harness the power it provided to jump her through it. That's all it needed to do.

She muttered earnest words of encouragement, but the device just couldn't match the wavelength of the bridge it was made to find. The helicopters were nearer, close enough to tease the ends of her hair and send a flash of panic into her stomach. As a frantic last resort, she spun the dial on the machine to search for a magnetic reading, rather than the one unique to the Bifrost.

If there was another passageway alongside of it, she would know.

The machine let out a beep, and the light that was once orange flashed a strong green. It had found a connection, a passageway to another realm. To Asgard.

Flipping the heavy switch and pressing her hands to the spasming metal, she took it.

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After crashing through crumbling rock, into a ground that was more ice than snow, the first thing Jane did was vomit pure bile.

She gasped, her breath scorching a fiery cold down into her lungs every time she inhaled. She couldn't open her eyes in fear of more bodily torment, but she knew that the boiling liquid she just threw up had already turned to mush. The same sense told her of her broken bones, despite her limbs already numb to feeling around her.

Jane was no biologist, and she had also failed the course during high school, but she knew immediately that humans were never meant to survive where she was.

But where _was _she?

Ignoring the dizziness that threatened more bile to appear, Jane opened her eyes to the blinding white beyond her boundaries. Mountain upon mountain of pewter-gray rock, dusted considerably with snow that was nearly a solid ice. By pure luck, Jane had landed in a patch of crumbled stone along with a generously thawed ice. She was positive that her luck had run out by this point.

She struggled to stand straighter from the crevice, but was only able to slump against the ground into a minuscule spot that was barren of snow. While her skin was numb, beneath her shivering muscles she could feel the throbbing of her broken bones at every move, from her ribs to her elbows to her calves to her fingers. It was a sort of hell; the cold was causing her to be painfully alert, yet her body couldn't comprehend what her mind was telling it to do.

She realized, fleetingly, that this would be where she would die.

She wasn't suicidal, not in the slightest. She would have had every right to be, what with her parents dying so early, her blatant isolation from the rest of the scientific community, Eric's 'agreement' with SHIELD, a certain god who hasn't visited her in nearing a year… If there was a time for self-harm, it would have to have been around now.

But, she felt no fear at the thought of death, even so close to her as it was beginning to near. In normal circumstances, she would be fighting it off with everything she had; she still had so many more things to write down, to act upon, to read, to watch, to _feel…_

She blamed it on the cold, like everything else. The plunging temperatures, which were recently keeping her alert, weighed down on her eyelids. She was beginning to give into hypothermia, and... she didn't mind_. _Not one bit. She welcomed the warm feeling spreading through her limbs, even. She knew… she _knew _that this was a reaction to the cold… her body was supplying her with the last of the warmth, to… to shut down her…

As her eyes rolled up into the back of her head, the frigid air sealing her lips into a slight grimace, she vaguely heard the echo of a horn sound around the mountains.

A horn?

She had to use every muscle in her face to open her eyes, to fight against the onslaught of a frozen death. Though, against the cold impacted ground, she saw nothing… she knew what she heard.

She heard survival.

Bracing both hands against the ice, ignoring the distant stab of pain in one of her wrists, she pushed herself up onto her knees. Rocking back, she felt a terrifying round of dizziness, but painfully recovered from the black spots that briefly made up the sky beyond her vision. She thrusted her jaw open, unsealing her lips and tacky mouth, and cleared her throat of the guttural, rolling liquid that didn't quite make it out with the rest five minutes prior.

"Hey!" She yelled, wishing that she could wave the arms she used for balance. She instead made her voice a higher pitch, nearly a scream, and yelled more. "Help! Anybody! I'm hurt! Help!"

The cries echoed aimlessly against the rocks surrounding her, and her frustrated sigh came out in an angry, fluffy fog. Throwing her head back, facing the sky, she closed her eyes and prayed to whatever god was listening, to convince them that she deserved to live. For now, anyway. She wasn't going to die by this, there just _had _to be more meaning to her life. Her flame wasn't going to be flickered out by a stray raindrop.

Bracing herself against the side of the crumbled mountain, she edged herself up the freezing stone despite the numb protest in her limbs. When standing as high as she could, only a slight crouch, she took in a rattling breath and yelled again.

"Help! I'm stuck! He-"

A rumble below her cut off her words as effectively as a a gun, and she dared look down. The ground she was standing on, the small crevice her body had made, was beginning to dip lower into the rock. It seemed as though the mountain itself was hollowed out on the inside, and she was the one caving it in.

_"Fuck," _she cursed at the revelation, never much for eloquence.

Ice and rock began to pelt her face from peaks above, and she was powerless against stopping it. Sheets split and shattered beneath her temporarily invalidated body, rocks tumbling and crashing together both below and above her. She watched them fall warily, eyes trailing the rough minerals gradually smooth and chisel the angled mountain face.

She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at that, breath billowing into her eyesight, and secured her duffel bag to herself. She quirked her lips the barest amount, and braced herself before forcing a misstep and causing herself to slide down the smoothed face, away from the avalanche.

Oh, it was painful, strikingly so. While her drowsiness was somewhat of a forced anesthesia, it wasn't enough to mask her broken bones from chipping each other and bits of rock to embed into the cuts adorning her skin. She managed to avoid the larger obstacles, those with the potential to kill her with one blow, and only relaxed when the slope evened out into snow without blemishes. Her eventual stop came at the root of a tree.

Only, it wasn't a tree.

Five huge, glaring eyes, the color of fresh blood. Sharp pointed teeth. Blue skin, scarred and hardened with war, clenching around fists at the sight of a human on their land.

Jotuns.

And, with that, Jane slid her eyes closed and let consciousness be but a fool's notion.

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She was gently rocking, floating on inland waves or swinging by push of a midday breeze. She would have to awake eventually, as she hadn't forgotten where she was and under what circumstances even while unconscious. It was easier to indulge in these vague imaginations, instead of awaking to this vicious chill to face what is certainly her death.

But death was meant to be faced, wasn't it?

Jane peeled open her eyes, sealed closed by ice, and blearily surveyed her surroundings. She was wrapped in furs, bundled loosely enough so that every particular jolt flashed pain through her broken body. Her duffel bag was nowhere to be seen. The layers weren't enough to hide her from the cold coming from both angles; one of the winter terrain, the other of the Jotun's body anchoring her from the pull of gravity.

She risked a glance over the pouch she was cradled within. From her muddled estimation, it looked to be over a ten-foot drop. Even if she did survive it, it wouldn't be worth it.

All she could do at this point, is wait.

Lights called out from the darkness, reflecting on the marble rocks that were gradually looking more-and-more manmade over the trek. Like a sun, rising above the mountains, sending weak golden light into the attributed oblivion with the fervor of a dying flashlight. Orcish voices pulled her out of reverie, rumbling vibrantly through the fur, and Jane shrunk painfully into the clothes. One replied, somewhere beside them, and the Jotun she was strapped to turned sluggishly to (assumedly) reprimand it, judging from the annoyance lacing its language.

Ah, so _that's _the source of the illumination.

A different scenery overtook her line of sight. A stone pathway, dim lanterns levitating along it with the aid of some sort of magic, villages visible in every which direction, either buried into the ground or hollowed into a mountain. And, in the midst of in all, a grand palace that was half-ice, half-rock, nestled seamlessly into the grandest mountainside and spilling golden (metaphorical) warmth into the otherwise depressing world. Jane almost had to shield her eyes, both from the vividance and the incongruity of it all.

She hadn't realize that her head was sticking out, soaking up her surroundings, until an angry grunt sounded from her carrier. Another fur cloth draped over whatever opening she had, shielding her eyes from wandering, and that was that.

More rocking, now smoother from the leveled grounding. More voices, some hushed, others angry. She would almost prefer quiet, if the alternative was this bombardment (or lack thereof) of emotion. A sudden halt, harshly twisting her pain against the Jotun's back, and different voices. This one was vaguely female, and overbearingly authoritative. An agreeance of whatever civility they could muster, a grating noise, and they were inside the palace.

It was considerably warmer, and calmer. Was that music in the distant halls? Laughing? A chatter of voices, muffled by walls? A grunt of disgust from those delivering her, choice words muttered back and forth, and they shortly came upon another door. No voices nor grating, only the knock of Jotun upon stone and the gentle slide of the door. A mutter from the Jotun carrying her, biting and quiet, and they entered with an air of arrogance, more rocking and a harder posture from before. Her carrier knelt.

"_A gift," _the Jotun growled, its first utterance in English, and suddenly the bag Jane was carried within was pulled from its shoulder, and dropped onto the ground. Not a serious throw, but Jane couldn't help the hiss that slithered through her teeth in pain, bones and cuts jarred sharply. When the discomfort mostly subsided, she risked a glance up.

Oh, it was another Jotun, alright. And this was indeed a throne room, upholstery and stained glass included. Making this strange Jotun king, the next in line after the late Laufey, lounging lazily on its throne and all the while looking unfortunately familiar.

_Shit._

His face was grotesque, angled sharply in places only a skeleton could provide. Off-white horns curled from just behind his temples, broadly parting the natural resting of his hair and curving to a point in the width of his head. His eyes, framed by long black lashes, only paved the way to a bloody red that overtook the sclera completely, making what should have been white and green become a pool of vibrant crimson. The only thing that breached the color was a dot, a black pinpoint of a pupil that was focused directly on her. His cheekbones seemed swollen, making the rest of his face contrast in deep, malformed shadows. His lips, or lack thereof, opened emotionlessly into a natural grimace for her to glimpse black, pointed teeth.

His flesh (if it could be called that) was the color of a milky film over blue sodalite, the colors fading intensities that ran over the skin she could see. He was clothed unlike the half-naked others, wearing a leather bodysuit that paid more mind to his muscles, which could have been mistaken as bones for the sharp rigidity they carried. Several scars marred his flesh, along with a thin, raised sequence of lines that built imperial designs over his skin.

His hair was the only pleasant thing about him; rather that choppy and severe, the black tresses grew out thin and silkily, falling between his shoulder blades and brushing away from his face effortlessly. His matching eyebrows were neatly trimmed, and were prominently even over what should have been a passionate emotion, alike to the ones she had seen in the past.

Only now, all he held was not an air of unstableness, nor evilness, not even that of mischief:

He held the expression of a fatigued king, about to order the execution of another prisoner he found no need for.

Only, his deep, baritone voice spoke otherwise:

"Jane Foster, to what do I owe the pleasure by your arrival to Jotunheim?"

Before she could answer, another one of the Jotuns stepped forward, dropping into a kneel that just _screamed _of its mocking nature. Jane watched Loki's fists clench against the arms of the marble throne, and felt a rush of spiteful triumph at the sight.

They began to converse in the foreign tongue, the brutish Jotun speaking with harsh bites and Loki flowing his words with smooth, flourished enunciations. He steadily grew agitated over the conversation, hiding it well but flicking his eyes to Jane more than necessary. She met his soulless gaze each and every time, her own spinning into a glare that didn't even register on him.

Finally, after what seemed like ages from the hard stone floor, Loki dismissed the guards with a wave of his hand, eyes falling back to Jane. He seemed to take no note of her broken form, fingers absentmindedly stroking his chin as he appraised her, akin to inspecting a pig before its slaughter. His voice sliced into the thin cold of the throne room. "Extraordinary."

She felt herself glare up at Loki without warning, even with her mind yelling at her not to. Her tongue was too quick as well. "Why am I here, your _Majesty_?"

He caught onto her sarcasm, and curled his mouth a tad. She felt a small victory at breaking past his frosty exterior. "I should be asking you the same thing. How is it," he began, standing from the throne he lounged on to take long, lazy steps to where she lied, immobile, "That you, Jane Foster, human lover to the mighty Thor, arrived in a realm unthinkable to visit by those of Midgard? Or, as it is, seemingly unthinkable? I need an explanation."

She gritted her teeth. "Join the club."

He bristled at the hatred in her tone, and Jane saw him battle his emotions. She discovered, for a moment, that she _wanted _him to get angry. If she were to be stuck in a palace with a beast, once a man, she would like to have him at least act like the old Loki. Not the distant King that he was trying to convince her of. She needed to be able to anticipate his moves, and she hated that she couldn't at the moment. He clenched his jaw and chose to be civil.

"Tell me, dear Jane, what exactly led up to these circumstances? I am no more as happy than you, but I would like to understand the factors contributing to this... _Unhappy _moment."

Jane glowered up at him, testing the water, and then decided to just wade in with a sigh. "I had just discovered it; how to travel interdimensionally, the formulas that could call to the Bifrost to bring me to Asgard. Only... My computer was bugged, I was stupid to think that it wasn't. I was just setting up the device when I heard SHIELD approaching." She felt a remembrance of fierce hate for the organization, and her blood ran hot. "It was _my _work, not theirs. I had more right than anyone to visit the realm, to study the stars, to see..." She trailed off, and cleared her throat. "But, the Bifrost has a unique reading. It needed time to set up, but SHIELD took that time away. I... I panicked. I mistakenly thought that the only passageway from Earth is to Asgard, and-"

"But that's the thing!" Loki interrupted, fascination in his echoing voice, "The only interdimensional passageway from Midgard _is _to Asgard, disregarding the Bifrost. How you broke past the barrier, hitting the mountains that separates Jotunheim from Midgard, is beyond even I. Unless..." He eyed her skeptically. "Were you hit by lightning during the time of the jump?"

"If I was, I would be dead by now," she replied drily.

He seemed to battle a sigh in his throat, eyes trailing away with a vague grimace (nearly all of his expressions are grimaces now). "Just a theory, though I'll admit an irrational one. Your humanity is such a fragile thing, isn't it?"

Bones broken, muscles torn, skin bleeding. She could only look up with a mirthless smirk. "I'm alive, aren't I?"

At that he seemed to actually take note of her condition. His brows furrowed the barest amount and his expression held something of disgust, or perhaps sympathy. He then let out a low groan, a breathy noise underneath his breath, and averted his eyes. Disgust it is, then.

That only fueled her anger, which hadn't had the chance to subside. "So, what's the plan? You get one of your kind to kill me? Throw me back out to die? Enslave me? Please, I'm all ears."

He met her eyes for a tense moment, narrowing his own thoughtfully, and clasped his hands behind his back in a distinctly imperial manner. His voice was methodical and level, as cold as the terrain outside and just as bleak. "There are three conditions you must follow, if you wish not to be expelled back out into the cold."

_It's already cold in here_, she thought bitterly, but softened her gaze from curiosity nonetheless_. _"What are the conditions?"

He looked down at her, trying to read her emotions, and a cold smile tinged his lipless mouth. "One, you will continue your work on interdimensional travel while you're here, as I can grudgingly admit that it's not exactly my forte. If SHIELD has a chance of making the same mistake as you, I need to use your handiwork to somehow flip its purpose and mask Jotunheim from possible exploration."

Jane immediately nodded, forgetting the angry exterior that she was supposed to be putting forth. "I don't want them here any less than you do, so I can agree." She hardened her gaze. "I'll need equipment."

He waved his hand. "That can be arranged."

She nodded uncertainly, and warily eyed him to continue.

"Two, you _will not _associate with the Jotuns in the palace, or anywhere else on this realm for that matter. Only my orders, saying that anyone who arrives without prior acknowledgement is to be brought to me, kept you alive today. As you may have heard by now, Jotuns are a bloodthirsty kind."

She huffed out an irritated sigh. "So, what? I'm just going to be locked up, never to talk to anyone?" Not that she minded; she had no desire to speak with the beasts that were recently staring hungrily at her, and not at all for what would have been a human reason. She did, however, dislike isolation. "Besides, shouldn't I worry right now, being in a room alone with a bloodthirsty Jotun itself?"

He noticed her use of 'it' when describing him, and averted his eyes angrily. His fists clenched. "While I won't pretend that your blood doesn't call to me, my sense of morality is far, far greater than my hunger. You won't need to worry about your safety on that aspect."

"Morality?" She scoffed incredulously, her voice rising in pitch and volume. "The death toll after your attack on Manhattan was well into the thousands, and would have been more without the Avengers evacuating beforehand. Not that it would have mattered to you."

He glared coldly at her. "You can decline my condition, if you wish. It'll only take but a minute to escort you back outside."

She tensed her jaw. "Fine. Last condition?"

In a split second, his face dropped its hostility and he hesitated, his fists unclenching to twist uncertainly together behind his back. "Three..." He met her eyes, his own suddenly and strikingly clear. "Try to fall in love with me."

Jane froze, her eyes widening in surprise with a hint of thinly masked disgust. Even her breathing halted. "... What?"

Loki held her gaze relentlessly. "You heard me. If at all possible, look past what I am, what I've done, and fall in love with whatever is left."

Jane couldn't even yell at him, she didn't have the strength. She just deleted the condition from her mind, and nodded weakly against the ground. "I agree to your conditions."

If Loki was at all surprised by her passivity, it didn't show. He nodded tightly. "Very well, then. I suppose you need to be healed." He called for a guard, one that didn't hold a look of hate or warmth, just one of professionalism. Loki snapped a few choice words, not unkindly, and the guard tried to pick her up as gently as it could muster. She must've been fully awake, as the pain was more intense than normal, a low whimper pushed from her throat without permission, and Loki's head quickly turned to her.

"You'll need to be quiet, I don't want to alert the palace of your arrival just yet."

She spoke through her teeth. "Sorry. I'll try to keep my_ agony_ a bit quieter this time."

Loki's eye twitched at the blatant sarcasm, and if not for the circumstances Jane would've been laughing. He held up a hand, one that she couldn't help flinch from, and pressed it to her forehead. It wasn't as cold as she would've expected, but still comparable to ice.

"You won't have a choice." He muttered a quick word in Jotun tongue, and she was asleep.

* * *

Jane was beginning to seriously tire from constantly awaking in a daze, though the bed she lied atop was a welcomed change.

Loki's voice was still past his ragged teeth, melodically deep as he murmured foreign words into the air. His magic wasn't a flash of green anymore, now taking the color of ivory as it fogged from his mouth, silvery in vapor. Jane knew that she was enspelled at that very moment, pulled deeply into the curse that he was chanting with his familiar, velvet baritone. The mist clouded down to his fingertips even after his words halted, pulsating with hidden power.

"Mesmerizing, isn't it?" Loki murmured, his hand turning over so his palm was facing the sky. He splayed out his fingers, watching the silvery magic cloud over the blue that dyed his hand. "I no longer have magic learned of an Asgardian, but now the sorcery of the Jotuns. Because I am already familiar with the art, I never had to learn of how to hold it. But…" His eyes narrowed, his thick eyelashes tangling together over the vibrant red. "The only way to yield it is by the native tongue, which I seldom made myself familiar with."

Jane let her eyes trace over his unnerving features once again, committing the lines and swirling finish to memory. She considered his words, and trailed down to the tome in his right hand. "So, that book... it's like a spellbook? Like the kind used in black magic, and wizardry?"

He smirked. "I suppose. The difference being, I won't be burned at the stake for it."

"Shame."

His smirk bared into a grin, black and filed to fangs, and he closed the ancient book with a _snap_!He waved his glowing hand beneath her eyes. "Now now, dear Jane. There is no need to be hostile with the one healing your injuries, is there?"

She swallowed, her eyes darting between his face and the frosty magic tingling the space near her chin. She settled on tilting her head up, away from his unnerving appearance. "No."

"Very well. Now, this shouldn't hurt at all, but it will feel odd. I'm sure you can handle it."

She settled with a tight nod. He hummed in approval, and she heard him shift to reach over her body, placing his hand on her swollen ankle.

He was right, it didn't hurt. His hands, while incredibly cold, were firm yet feather light as they danced over her skin. She felt muscles tightening, connecting and working together to roll the bone back into place. When it did, when his hand lifted from her leg, she flexed her ankle experimentally. It moved and felt as it should, before her arrival to Jotunheim. Intrigued, she tilted her head down and watched as his hand tentatively brushed her opposite calf.

It was strange, watching the sinews ripple on their own accord beneath her skin. "How do you do that?"

He pursed his mouth, the dimple that flashed on his cheek unseemly against his marble skin. "That, I do not know. My Asgardian magic was morphed by my thoughts, so I was always in full control. This…" He gestured with one hand towards the spellbook that was placed on the foot of the bed. "It's predetermined. If I wanted to make something that had no translation into the Jotun tongue, it could not be done."

"Predetermined by what, exactly?" Discomfort aside, she was definitely curious, and probed him further on the land he now ruled. "If the Jotun language is the same as the tongue in that book, what's keeping everyday conversation from turning into an all-out magical battle? There has to be some fine line between all of that."

"Ever the scientist, even this far from home," he commented, drumming his fingers against her knees to mend the broken skin. "What you ask is valid, being a concern of mine when I first arrived. It's all about the frame of mind." He tapped a finger to his temple, emphasizing his words. "If you weave magic with your voice, what you say becomes reality. It takes a certain amount of restraint to keep magic from becoming too powerful when released, though, so many use this book of spells for further control."

She held back a smirk, and instead jabbed at his ego. "So, what you're saying is that you don't have a very strong restraint?"

He barked out a laugh, his sharpened black teeth bared. "No, dear Jane, but you're too weak for my magic without hindrance. To make sure that you don't become completely morphed together into the human equivalent of what was once called 'Pangea', I suggest you leave well enough alone and allow my conditions."

She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "Fair enough. But, you never answered my first question."

"My apologies," he said blandly, inspecting a bruise on her upper thigh with his unusually sharp red eyes. "Refresh my memory."

She bristled at his obvious devil-may-care attitude, but ignored it otherwise and instead voiced her thoughts. "This spellbook... Who is it predetermined by?"

He flitted over her shorts and instead hooked his thumb at the hem of her shirt, yanking it up to just underneath her breasts without warning. He didn't pay any mind at her obvious surprise, and instead dragged his gaze over her middle with a critical eye. "It's not certain as to whom it was made by. Maybe Laufey, maybe Thrym, maybe others in that Norse mythology you people on Midgard know so well. I've come to realize that it's all the same, what's happening here as opposed to what is written in the books there. The only difference is what I make of it."

She blinked at him. "How… valiant of you."

He scoffed. "Hardly. 'Valiant' isn't in my vocabulary, nor should it be in anyone's while addressing my person. Now, stop talking, and limit your breathing. Your ribs will be tricky to mend even without your incessant blabbering."

* * *

Jane awoke to a hand petting down her hair.

While she attempted to calm her immediate reaction, her body proved too quick for her. Her muscles tensed, her nostrils flared, and her lungs took in a copious amount of air on their own accord. The hand stilled, and knowing that the false sense of surprise was already lost, she peeled her eyes open to the golden light above her.

Sitting beside her bed was a young Jotun.

Jane, her adrenaline on high, carefully edged up the bed until her back was tensed on the pillows, parallel to the headboard. Her hands, fisted in the sheets on either side, turned cold at the foreign presence in the otherwise warm room.

Its eyes, unblinking and vibrantly red, were carefully darting from each of her own. Its skin was baby blue, not yet darkened from the unforgiving winter, and its marble-like skin seemed wrongfully pudgy. The lines that decorated its skin were more floral than imperial, and it had a smidge of flecked navy around its mouth as lips. Jane calmed a little at its obvious immaturity, but then remembered the fact of its bloodthirsty nature, without built restraint. Her fear returned.

"Hello," it said hesitantly, its long eyelashes fluttering over its eyes. She liked its human reaction, its tentative nature, which caused another unwanted fluctuation of her emotions. She blinked as well, tilting her head a miniscule amount in response to her curiosity.

"Hello," she replied, trying to identify its gender. Its hair was semi-restrained, several cornrows running along the left side of its head and the remaining midnight strands lined with gem-like beads, falling just above its shoulder. Its body was draped with a thick woven cloak, sewn with threads of differinggrayscale intensities, falling to the ground and clasping itself against its neck with metal buttons. The sleeves were lined with white fur, which also showed at its neck and puffed around the hem at its feet.

Jane continued. "Who are you? Why are you here?"

"I am Rafir, loyal to the palace," it explained, placing a delicate hand against its chest. Its voice wrung, like silver bells. "My King has requested for me to take my place as your personal servant."

Jane furrowed her eyebrows, relaxing her composure only a little. "I don't need a personal servant."

Rafir sighed, though not condescendingly. Only somewhat frustrated. "Jotuns who haven't reached their adulthood yet have no thirst for blood. I am the Midgardian equivalent of a seven year old, so my King appointed me to you in hopes of keeping you safe." Its voice was clear, but it enunciated every syllable like it was unsure of what exactly it was saying. "The others around the palace do not hold the same restraint. I can protect you if need be."

"How can the equivalent of a seven year old, shorter than even me, protect me from a bloodthirsty Frost Giant?" Jane couldn't hide her skepticism.

"My King taught me the art of magic when he arrived, which I hold better than others in the kingdom. If there is one who can keep you under protection while my King is away, it is I."

Not wanting to upset the young Jotun, unsure of how it would react, Jane nodded in reverence. She then looked out the window beside her with a sense of distaste. "Where exactly _is _your king? Does your kind not sleep?"

It wasn't fazed. "We do, but not as frequently as Midgardians do. But I do not understand why you would question that, it is well past morning."

"Really?" She asked in surprise, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed to span the sky more avidly with her wandering eyes. It was still pitch black, several moons decorating the heavily-starred sky, not a hint of blue to signal approaching dawn. "How can you tell?"

Rafir walked around the bed, shuffling next to her to survey the view she held. Its eyes trailed the horizon, alike to her own. "The alignment of the stars does well, as it shows a different scene every rotation. The way constellations point, as the move with us each turn of the land. The position of the moons, where they hang in the sky, whether or not Jotunheim cuts the light of one into a crescent. Or…" Rafir suddenly smirked, pointedly turning its head to the wall above the headboard. "The clock is always a helpful reminder."

Jane whipped her head around, her eyes locking on the clock that held more digits than what she was used to. Instead of feeling her cheeks flame with indignation, she allowed a mirror smirk to tilt her lips whenever she looked back to the young Jotun. Not every Jotun has to be rude and brutish, it seems.

"Rafir, I think that you and I will get along just fine."

* * *

"The King has requested your attendance at dinner tonight," Rafir said as _she _(Jane had learned of her gender during conversation) brushed dreamily through the woman's hair. Jane scowled, narrowing her eyes at her reflection.

"Tell him that I can't go."

Rafir _tsk_ed. "You cannot refuse the _King_, Jane, no matter what troubled past you have with him. The women in the palace can only dream of being invited to dine with the King, especially one as handsome as he."

Jane's eyes widened, her jaw dropping from surprise. "Loki? _Handsome? _I mean, sure, his other form wasn't hard to look at, but _now…"_

"... He's a beast to you," Rafir finished sadly, her hands unfaltering against Jane's hair. The young Jotun sighed, her breath light and cool. "Jotuns are not as ugly and mean as we are said to be. The Jotuns that brought you, the ones you have seen, were a part of the late King Laufey's private forces, and hold a grudge against our current King for that. But, in reality…" Her voice dropped into a murmur. "_No one _liked Laufey. He was ruthless, frightening, he kept the palace dark and never let the towns have festivity nor music. He never cared for the castle grounds, he let snow fall freely in and never repaired the stone whenever he became angry and destroyed the walls.

"King Loki, though… He changed that." Jane heard Rafir put the brush down, and began absentmindedly braiding her hair. "He came here angry and destructive, not knowing anything in the Jotun tongue, but after a day of exploring he found a book of our language, written in one that he was already familiar in. Already holding magic within his words, he began to rebuild Jotunheim. The castle was no longer half in ruins, with jagged stone and unrelenting snow, but polished with smooth marble with its original stone undertones, holding ice instead of glass. He painted the ceiling with ink that glittered like gems, making a great map of all the realms and their kingdoms. He even lit the palace up with a golden glow, something unheard of in all of Jotunheim's history. But, the greatest thing that he has brought to us… is the music."

Jane expected her to elaborate, to give examples, but she only answered the thoughts with a musical hum underneath her breath, light and sweet. Jane groaned quietly, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "That's all great, Rafir, and I'm not saying that to dispel you. But I'm not exactly _comfortable _around Loki, and I would rather not-"

"Attend dinner with me?"

Jane immediately jumped out of her seat, pulling her hair from Rafir's hands and spinning around to the entryway.

Loki stood there, his arms crossed against his leather-clad chest, leaning against the doorway with a cool smile slanted across his mouth. His skin contrasted deeper in the lights of the study, the blue battling the orange-like gold for dominance while still cutting angular shadows into his features. He nodded to Rafir, his eyes gentling to the young girl, and she hurriedly bowed and sent Jane a small smile before leaving the study.

Jane grimaced after her.

Loki didn't move from his position, but he kept an unreadable emotion on his face. "You know, I'm not _that _terrible," he teased lowly.

She knew that he was teasing, because even him, more than _anybody, _knew how terrible he actually was. He seemed to catch onto that, his eyes tensing around bloody red, but he dismissed it lightly as he pushed calmly from the wall and stepped forward.

"This dinner isn't just for my benefit," he explained, clasping his hands behind his back in an imperial manner. "It isn't a 'date', nothing of the sort, despite my words to you earlier in the throne room. It is merely a meeting that I need you to be a part of, and nothing more."

Jane stared at him blankly. "I only just recently arrived, Loki. How could you possibly need-"

He raised up a hand, and she grudgingly held her words. "Don't question me, nor Jotunheim customs. It will be easier to negotiate with you accompanying me, and that's final."

Against her better instincts, she turned her back to him, cheeks coloring with indignation. She squeezed her eyes closed, clenching her jaw. "And if I refuse?"

It was a dangerous game, and she was determined to win. She could practically feel Loki's smirk in the air, and heard his breathy chuckle from the entryway. From this position, facing away with aid of only his voice, he almost wasn't a monster. 'Almost' being that he had always been a monster, a beast of different faces. From here, though, he could be considered his former brand of normal.

"I could say that I won't kill you, but that would be boring, wouldn't it?" His steps sounded closer, and Jane's eyes darted to the mirror hanging on the wall. He was still far enough away before worry.

"I've had enough near-death experiences for a lifetime, haven't I?"

"That you have." He cleared his throat, inspecting a painting hung on the wall absentmindedly. "I have your bag that you arrived with, untouched. After dinner, I'll return it to you."

A twinge in her heart, but she hid it well. "It's what you want me to have most of all, isn't it? Your first condition, that I find a way back to Earth. This seems to only benefit you, as my information is solely stored in there."

"We both know that's not all there is."

_Damn. _She had really hoped he wouldn't have known. Jane swallowed audibly, and turned back around. "Okay, Loki. I'll attend dinner with you. I'll even act civil. But you have to promise me that, the moment I discover a way back to Earth, that you give me a way to return to Asgard."

Any semblance of mirth dropped from his features, expression hardening, and he looked away. "I won't be able to do that."

She wasn't thrown off. She had expected that, even. "Fine."

His jaw clenched, and he sniffed indignantly. "Fine."

And then he stalked from the throne room, looking all the part of a bratty prince being refused his toy. She watched him leave, watched his shoulders clench from rage, and a smirk began to paint her lips.

This… this she could work with.


End file.
